


you're too sexy beautiful (and everybody wants a taste, that's why)

by caandlelit



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: !! yes thats it, Aged-Up Character(s), Banter, Clubbing, Flirting, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Snark, Tenderness, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a big reward for anyone who catches all the taylor swift references, fun fact! i was gonna name this after a lover album lyric but, he waxes poetic abt hanamaki cONSTANTLY, i decided nick jonas was far more apt, im serious the jealousy thing really doesnt work out, it flops sO badly lmfao, it mostly makes matsukawa more uhh, lots of bantering!!! they talk so much shit, or just, pisces like mournful and it brings out the Yearning, they grind in a club!!!! it has been a long time coming, theyre very in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 18:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caandlelit/pseuds/caandlelit
Summary: (The fact of the matter is, Takahiro has known Matsukawa Issei for almost six years and he has never seen him angry.Slightly mad, yes, annoyed, all the time and usually because of Takahiro himself, a fact he considers something to be pretty proud of. Any and every reaction from Issei and his perfect poker face is welcomed with open arms.But yeah, he's never seen him properly pissed. And that’s alright, that’s okay, Issei's a fuckin care bear, he's soft and sweet and steady and a lot of other things; including being a self-proclaimed 'big boy', who's more than capable of holding onto his temper.But the thing is, apparently that information is dead wrong because right now, he's not just mad, he looks fucking livid.)or, hanamaki tries to get matsukawa jealous so that he'll finally get his head out of his ass and date him in a ridiculous and over-the-top plan and he actually manages it! like, admitted, it doesnt really go quite as planned but the end result is satisfactory so he still counts it as a win





	you're too sexy beautiful (and everybody wants a taste, that's why)

**Author's Note:**

> i have been writing this for so long
> 
> special thanks go to the paraphrase tool on word, my wonderful beta animelake13 on tumblr, you're the best, noodlesyo on tumblr thankyou so much for the encouragement and for liking my posts on my art insta youre the Only real one i care abt u so much ily, the lover album by taylor swift, genna bella on discord who i accidentally sent my fic to because im a fucking dumbass, you couldve ignored me but ?? didnt?? so like thankyou for reading it anyways??? youre an actual babe, furudate for creating my favorite characters, man shoutout to u ur a real homie, and uhhh thats it go stream lights up by harry styles 🤘🏽
> 
> happy ?? reading?? i hope u like it????

Matsukawa is the chillest person on the planet. Everybody knows this. He never gets mad, he's always calm and as cool as a cucumber, relaxed and laid-back, slacker is his goddamn character type, this is a fact of life. 

It’s what they have in common, what initially drew them to each other in volleyball practice in first year when Oikawa and Iwaizumi were annoying and unreasonably driven and pushing all the other first years along on their ridiculous pace, which Hiro had _not_ been about. Matsukawa had been groaning and mumbling curses right alongside him all throughout their three years at Aoba Johsai, no matter how much they had grown to grudgingly love volleyball. 

(Obviously not as much as Oikawa does, that’s just an unhealthy amount of love for a sport but like, they love it a normal amount. A _dank_ amount. It’s a fantastic game and Takahiro will fight anybody who shit talks it. It’s his emotional support high school sports anime esque game, thank you very much.)

So anyways, Issei is generally acknowledged to be a very relaxed guy.

Which does not explain why he is grinding his teeth, and, from across the club, Takahiro spares a wince for the crescents he's probably cutting into the heel of his palm with his nails, digging into his skin from how tightly his right fist is clenched, the way it does when he's frustrated about something. His other hand is squeezing the delicate glass of pretentious champagne that he’d ordered, 'just for kicks', so tightly that Hiro is vaguely concerned at the back of his mind that its gonna smash _any_ second now. 

The fact of the matter is, Takahiro has known Matsukawa Issei for almost six years and he has never seen him angry.

Slightly mad, yes, annoyed, all the time and usually because of Takahiro himself, a fact he considers something to be pretty proud of. Any and every reaction from Issei and his perfect poker face is welcomed with open arms.

But yeah, he's never seen him properly pissed. And that’s alright, that’s okay, Issei's a fuckin care bear, he's soft and sweet and steady and a lot of other things; including being a self-proclaimed 'big boy', who's more than capable of holding onto his temper.

But the thing is, apparently that information is dead wrong because right now, he's not just mad, he looks fucking _livid_.

And to Takahiro's breathless delight, he's the sole cause of it all. All the signs, that deliciously darkened, lidded and hardened gaze, the edginess in those broad shoulders, the flexing of tendons in his neck, the stupidly funny looking twitching vein on his forehead, they're all thanks to Hiro.

His bedhead is worse than usual, the halfhearted attempt at organizing it for work has disappeared from the amount of times he’s run his hands through it, and despite his recently shaved undercut (way higher and _way_ hotter than it was in high school) which usually makes him look fresh as _hell_, the heat from the crowd has his curls sticking messily to his forehead and his thick eyebrows are furrowed and tense. 

Which would make him look like a mess to most people, but all Takahiro’s accursed monkey brain can produce is that he looks like he’s just been fucked.

His dick is most certainly half hard at the _very_ _least_ in his black dress pants, and his white button down shirt is untucked and almost halfway undone and draws Hiro’s eyes to the frankly absurd amount of chiseled chest on display and his sleeves are rolled up too so his forearms are out and look really attractive and _damn_, Hiro should stop thirsting now. 

But to summarize, he looks like a _wreck_. 

And it’s all because of their tragically _still_ unresolved sexual tension, and the way Hiro's barely paying any attention to him, in favor of pretending to attempt to get laid on the dance floor of the club they're at, probably doesn’t help. 

'Cause listen, Hiro knows his boy, okay. He knows that Mattsun generally doesn’t care for being the center of attention. But that he _needs_ to be the center of _Hiro's_ attention. 

And that's great, because Hiro constantly needs to be the center of _his_ attention too. 

Which is precisely why he's smiling serenely while throwing his entire body into the gyrating movements of his hips and the grinding he's doing back on the crotch of whatever poor fuck Issei is currently murdering with his eyes. Because he _cares_. 

Now don’t get him wrong, Hiro's not doing this just to be a bitch. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he’s got a plan, okay. Everything he's done so far has been highly calculated and he's got it all under control. 

Basically he’s gonna get that dick tonight if it’s the last thing he does. 

And please, before you judge him, put yourself in his shoes. He's been pining for Issei for a _longass_ time, he's _so_ in love with him. He's had the angles of his face and the exact shade of his eyes memorized since second year of _high school_. He could draw him in his goddamn _sleep. _

(In fact, now that he thinks about it, he's _pretty_ sure that at least seven of his art assignments in uni featured Issei and his perfect face.)

And he knows in his bones that his feelings are requited, there is no doubt about it, ‘cause how in hell could they not be. They're Issei and Takahiro, super best friends and fucking soulmates. They've been mistaken to be dating so many times that at this point it’s literally an improv bit that they have down _flawless_.

Also Issei ain’t slick, he’s caught him staring at his ass _way_ too many times for it to be platonic.

And he is _also_ vividly aware of all the possible consequences that could come of flirting with some asshole that's not Issei, goddammit Oikawa, you can stop with the huge, terrified eyes and frantic hand gestures, okay, he knows Issei is pissed. And he’s fucking _relishing_ in it.

Because he's been waiting okay, and he's fucking tired of it, and Issei should know by now that he's not gonna lower himself to confessing _ever_, no matter _who_ it is. When he started getting into people romantically at the tender age of thirteen, he'd refused to be the blushing school girl and that's why he's never had to make the first move or confess to somebody he wanted to date. Because he's a pro and he can always fool them into liking him and coming to him first. It’s very satisfying.

Not that he's _really_ ever wanted to date someone thats not Issei, but, fuck it a guy has his needs alright. Hiro just wants to be _held_. 

Preferably by Issei. 

And now maybe the loser will actually get off his ass and do something about it.

So he's been losing himself on the dance floor to bad Drake remixes and average K-Pop for like, twenty _whole_ minutes, _god_ Issei is slow, and he's starting to get thirsty. 

_Not_ in that way, you asshole, he's parched. And also _very_ horny. 

He laughs off the men pressing up against him, looking to get in his skin-tight pants, and makes his way back to where Oikawa is silently judging him next to Iwaizumi, who’s staring into his bright pink drink, presumably to distract himself from Issei, who is _still_ eyefucking him as intensely as he’s been doing for the past, holy shit, half an _hour _since they got here, _please_ Issei get a move on, you _stupid_ motherfucker.

Hiro expertly avoids Oikawa's stink eye and leans back in his barstool and blatantly ignores Issei, because he doesn’t deserve his attention if he won’t get a hint and dick him down already, and pulls the bartender with the terrible bedhead into a conversation while Issei deflates and mopes next to him. 

Serves him right, Hiro can’t always be expected to be the rational one around here. 

Jesus fuck, he’s horny.

He sees someone about to walk over, presumably to buy him a drink, and he half-turns, but Issei is already rearing up and glaring like a defensive boyfriend, (_ha_, Hiro _wishes_) and grumbling for a rum and coke at the bartender. The guy, who Hiro barely glances at, holds his hands up defensively in the universal gesture for 'chill-man-i-don't-wanna-fight' and backs off. Because Issei was still staring him down. Because of course he was. 

Mid-emo phase bartender makes to slide the drink across to Issei, but he shakes his head and jerks a thumb at Hiro, drawling, "It's for him."

And, okay, _maybe_ Hiro's breath hitches a bit when Issei's stupid, deep, slow voice washes over him. 

Annoying bartender’s single visible eyebrow wiggles as he slides it to Hiro, who sighs and picks up and tosses back half of the drink-that-Issei-got-him then slams it on the bar, gulping and licking his lips before pushing it towards Oikawa who accepts it, but is still very unsubtly judging him, fucking perfect-haired handsome asshole. Unfortunately he can’t stop himself from glancing up at Issei before he leaves with a wave. And holy _shit_.

The pure unadulterated _lust_ written in the planes of his face, his hooded eyes and his slick lips, makes Takahiro’s eyes widen and cheeks flare, and it almost makes him give in.

_Almost_. 

He tears his gaze away as fast as he can and seeks refuge in the familiar swaying crowd of sweaty bodies. 

_Huh_, he thinks hopefully. _Maybe Issei’s getting somewhere._

  


Issei is getting nowhere and he is so fucking confused. Cause man, what the _fuck_ was that, this whole evening Hiro’s been ignoring him, and he has _no_ idea why and its killing him, and _then_, just now, he’d looked up at him for a split second and the world had seemed to stop. It had been static electricity and he’d looked so fucking _pretty_, and then something in Issei’s gaze had made those lovely grey eyes widen and his cheeks go red, and he’d turned and left, leaving Issei to stare at his ass in a haze of confusion and desire. 

Also! He’s so fucking _pissed_, because he's pretty sure he's never been this hard in his life, and he shares an apartment with Takahiro, who is a terribly sexy and _shameless_ roommate, and insists on constantly walking around half-naked and also climbs into Issei's bed at every opportunity, claiming that he’s either 'freezing his ass off', or 'melting under his blankets', or 'ugh Issei, we really need to get new bedsheets mine are _so_ scratchy and you _know_ my skin is sensitive and, oh wow, yours are way nicer I'm totally sleeping here tonight’.

And the tongue piercing. Like. Holy shit.

Issei doesn’t wanna talk about the tongue piercing on account that he can’t even think about it without having to take a moment.

So like, as you can imagine, he's been through _way_ too many embarrassing boners and he's never gonna get used to how Takahiro affects him. 

And he's affecting him _a lot_ right now, and he looks so _good _that Issei is dying a little bit on the inside with how much he wants to be the one grinding up against that ass.

'Cause the thing thats bothering him the most is that he's _jealous_ goddammit, he's so jealous of every goddamn bastard Hiro is grinding up against and dancing and laughing and flirting with. And he’s in his element, surrounded by adoring people who want all of that and more.

And that sucks. Because for fuck’s sake, Issei adores him every fucking day and _maybe_ thats possessive of him but, cut him some slack, he's only now suddenly realizing that, woah! He does _not_ fucking like it when other people get that close to Takahiro and he _really_ wants to do something about it already. 

Which is also probably unfair of him, because he doesn’t own Hiro, he has no claim on him, he's just his best friend. 

That is in love with him.

And has been in love with him since _basically_ the moment he saw him. 

He fondly reminisces about first year of high school Takahiro. His haircut had been terrible and his first impression of Issei had _also_ been terrible on account of Issei tripping like a _clown_ when he saw him in front of the gym, and going down and falling flat on his face. 

In his defense, the lighting had been really nice, the golden hour sun making Takahiro look downright angelic. 

And then Hiro had laughed for a solid thirty seconds before offering him a hand while still snickering, and then went off _again_ into peals of laughter when Issei had groaned that he should just leave him there to die. Pretty much the opposite of an angel. A goddamn demon is what he is.

Useless and annoying piece of shit he may have been, but at least he hadn’t yet decided to make it his mission to give Issei an awkward boner every time he walked in a room. 

So now he’s not only a demon, but he’s a _sex_ demon. Fucking fabulous.

So he's being a little overdramatic. Shit, Issei's so fucked. He’s constantly thinking about Takahiro, but his thoughts aren’t always as dirty and wild as they are right now. God, the things he wants to do to him.

His mouth is parted, and his eyes are glued to Hiro’s swaying body, and he can't get over the way his pale skin glows and the way his piercings glint under the strobe lights. The way his just-a-size-too-small tank top clings to his chest, the way his currently pale pink hair looks like a halo in the contrasting dark, the way Issei could single him out and notice nobody else in a sea of people.

The way his bright, bright eyes are suddenly looking right back at him through the crowd. 

Hiro bites his lip and grins, so achingly bright and all for him. Then the crowd shifts and he disappears, but not before blowing Issei a cheeky kiss and a wink.

And suddenly it hits him like a fucking truck. Why Takahiro is being such a _fucking_ tease, why he’s not paying attention to Issei, why he’s so on and off and why it seems like he’s doing his best to piss Issei off. 

Holy shit.

Does Takahiro like him _back_???

“Holy _shit_, does. Does Takahiro like me _back_??” he says slowly, eyes narrowed.

Oikawa lets out a huge and honestly, _obnoxious_ sigh of relief. “Finally! God, that took way too long I wasn’t sure if I could take the sexual tension to be honest, _holy_ fuck.”

Iwaizumi claps a highly confused Issei on the back and says, “Congratulations, genius. As a reward for finally figuring it out, next round is on Tooru. I think Takahiro’s actually gonna cry with relief.”

Oikawa slams his hand on the bartop and calls for _another round of shots, please! Thank you Tetsu-chan! Put it on Iwa-chan’s tab!_

Issei tears his eyes away from Hiro’s long, slender legs in those unfair skinny jeans and furrows his brows at them as Iwaizumi groans and scolds Oikawa something along the lines of, ‘for the last time stop making me pay for your drinks, Tooru, you’re on the national team you literally don’t have to leech off of me’.

He interrupts them. “Wait. You guys _knew_?”

Oikawa stops flapping his hands at his boyfriend and stares at Issei incredulously. 

Issei blinks. 

Oikawa raises his eyebrows. 

Issei’s jaw drops open. He gapes. “What the fuck? How long have you guys known??”

Oikawa rolls his eyes at Issei’s stupidity and hums.

“Huh. I _think_... Hiro told me in… second year?? Yes, I think that’s it. Some evening practice that we both stayed too long for? Whatever, what about you, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi’s response is immediate. “Third year, first training camp,” He leans back in his stool and crosses his arms and grins. “He was complaining about ‘eyebrows douchebag’ and ‘muscle head’ and something along the lines of, uh, ‘he’s so fucking dense Hajime-‘ “

Issei makes a noise of protest and is _rudely_ ignored.

“-but yeah, I’d figured it out sometime in second year. You were both pretty obvious.”

Issei is horrified. “You guys have known about my crush on him for _that_ long??” 

This is the most embarrassed that Issei has ever been in his life.

Except that one time when he’d woken up hard in Hiro’s bed, halfway to rubbing off against Hiro’s _ass_, and he’d had to pull himself together and quietly leave like it was a fucking walk of shame. But _without_ the sexy times that would have made it worth it. 

And to top off the disgusting fish and ketchup ice-cream sundae, he keeps sneaking glances at the dancefloor and he’s pained to realize he’s lost sight of Hiro. Shit, this is just _not_ his day.

Oikawa sighs dramatically. “Yes, it’s been a terrible burden to bear. Poor Takahiro, he’s been off so much worse. I’m just annoyed he never did anything, knowing it was requited and all.”

“Well, he’s doing something now, isn’t he?” Iwaizumi points out reasonably.

Oikawa scoffs. “Yes, and it’s very mature of him isn’t it. What a way to go about it.”

Issei hadn’t been listening that well, too busy searching for Takahiro. But now his head snaps around. 

“Wait, _what_? H-Hiro _knows_??” Issei chokes out. 

Oikawa opens his mouth. Closes it. Groans loudly and shuts his eyes tight and melts down in his barstool and covers his face with his hands and massages his temples delicately with his thumbs. 

Dramatic bitch, Issei thinks distantly.

Iwaizumi blinks and stares at Issei. Then looks down at his nearly empty drink. Then throws it back and yells for another. 

Issei is so confused, every answer just opens up _more_ questions. Hiro knows he likes him back? Is _that_ why he's trying to make him jealous?? 

God, this is just all too much information and all he really wants is Takahiro now and he can’t even _see_ him. This sucks so much. 

Issei processes for a long moment and then gets up abruptly. Time to finally make a move, this bullshit has gone on long enough.

“Oikawa tell me where Hiro is. I’ve gotta-I don’t know what I’ve gotta fuckin’ do but I’m gonna do something, 'cause I’m tired of all this _mindfuckery_, goddammit, where is he.”

Oikawa points at a section of the dance floor, one hand still covering his face, and he says through it, muffled, “Please earn back the respect I had for you asap.”

Issei nods. Turns and looks in the direction Oikawa gestured at and blanches. 

Takahiro is plastered all over some blonde motherfucker. Issei sees red.

He nods again, whispers, “Okay. This is okay.”

He takes a step forward and then hesitates. 

Turns around again and grabs a shot off the bartop and tosses it back, dropping it on the counter with a clatter and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before making his way purposefully across the club.

Oikawa lets out a cheer and the last thing Issei hears is him saying, “Wow, he really just earned back like, _ninety_ percent of the respect back, just like that, huh.” 

And Iwaizumi’s answer, “Yeah but like, how much was the respect in the first place?”

  
  
  


Hiro is not having the time of his life, despite it outwardly seeming like he is. He’s tired of all these losers who don’t have dark curly hair or big hands or warm chests. Plus, none of them are _funny_, either. Their lines have all been lame and gross and, occasionally, downright _tragic_. 

A good sense of humor is what Hiro needs _most_ in a guy. Other than, like, the obvious, which is a _huge_ dick, but, like, honestly who _doesn’t_ look for that in a guy?

Plus, he knows for a fact that Issei is huge, _not_ because he’s a pervert, fuck off, but because he’s _smart_ and Issei is like, 6’4, _and_ he has big feet, _and_ because one time he’d woken up in the morning with a boner grinding up against his ass and it’d been really, _really_ big and he’d had to stop himself from whimpering.

Hiro had barely managed to pretend to be asleep and _goddamn_ he deserves an Oscar or some shit, because Issei had been awake and wrapped all around him and he’d _moaned_ into his neck before going still and Hiro had almost cried when he’d felt Issei sighing and pulling himself away.

He’ll be honest, it had been really hard not to melt back into him but, again, Hiro has _values_ and _rules_ and those values and rules are that he’s not some sappy fucker who makes the first move. His goddamn _pride_ is at stake here.

Although. Pride? Bitch, where? he thinks, rolling his hips against punk looking blonde guy with the tongue piercing, Terushima. 

He’s actually pretty cool, and Hiro wants to be friends with this one. His introduction had been an exclamation of, _‘Woah, hey! Matching tongue piercings!!” _which had made Takahiro snort, and then he’d asked for a dance. 

Hiro had confessed a minute into the conversation that he’s trying to make a guy jealous. 

He’s a quivering pussy, what can he say. 

Terushima had laughed and said, “Nice, I’m trying to get my mind off someone. I’ll find a hookup after helping you, this is fun and I wanna see your man!” 

God, what a nice guy. They talk for a bit and turns out he’s in his last year of uni. Hiro hopes he passes all his finals. He tells him that, and Terushima laughs. He laughs a lot. He tells him that too, and Terushima defends himself while giggling slightly, “I can’t help it, you’re hella funny, dude!” 

Hiro throws his head back and grins. This night is looking up. 

Then a deep voice says, “Hey, can I cut in?” and Hiro shivers, because fucking finally, he’d watched Issei having what looked like a wholeass epiphany and he’s really glad he’s finally found the balls to walk over. 

Terushima turns and grins, half-shouts, “Yo! Hanamaki, is this your guy?! You were right, he’s really hot!” 

Hiro chokes. For fucks sake, he thinks. Nothing ever goes right for him, huh.

He hears Issei snort and say, “What?” and he turns to look at them and Terushima beams at him and Hiro has to physically stop himself from slapping the colossal dumbass. 

“Yep, this is him. M-my guy,” he grits out. Issei laughs out loud, no trace of that sexy anger left, and Hiro takes a moment to mourn his beautiful plan, may it rest in peace. 

He still doesn’t look at Issei. God, the fucking douchebag is probably grinning so smugly right now. 

Bitch, Hiro thinks viciously.

Terushima claps Issei on the back. “Well, I guess my job here is done. But, like, if you guys are ever up for a threesome, hit me up, you’re both sexy as fuck!” He slides Hiro a strip of paper with what looks like his number and grins. “Or even if you just wanna hang, that’d be dope. Text me, I'll give you my insta! See ya!” 

He disappears into the crowd as Issei calls out a confused and laughing, “Thank you?” and then Hiro and Issei are left alone to stare at the piece of paper. 

Issei looks up and opens his mouth, and Hiro holds up a hand to shut him up. He shoves the paper into Issei’s pant pocket, turns around and presses into his (warm!!) chest, tilting the back of his head into Issei’s neck. 

“No more talking, your voice is stupid.”

Issei snickers, breath heating up Hiro’s nape, and slides his arms down to his waist, one large hand heavy on his hip and the other flat against his tummy.

Issei drops a kiss against the pale skin of Hiro’s neck and murmurs, “Hey.”

Hiro hums and offers him more of his neck in complete contradiction to his incoming reply. “Didn’t I say no talking? If you can’t shut up and follow directions I’m afraid you’re gonna have to leave-”

“I’m in love with you.” Another soft kiss. 

Hiro exhales a soft laugh. Finally.

“Yeah. I’m in love with you too, you big loser.”

Issei noses against his neck. “Y’know, you didn’t have to be such a pillow princess about it,” he muses. 

Hiro rolls his eyes. 

“'Cause like. You could’ve at least told me, babe.” 

Hiro makes a grumbling noise.

Issei snorts. “Yeah, I know, too much effort, which is chill, and you never confess first, which is all very sexy of you, I _get_ that but. God, we could’ve been doing this for literal _years_. I mean, Iwa and Oikawa got their shit together before we did. That shit’s embarrassing and you know it, doll.”

Takahiro slaps his shoulder weakly on his hands’ way up to grip at his curls with a groan of, “Jesus, you talk _so_ much,” and Issei laughs.

He turns in his arms and squints up at him. His eyes are dark and playful, his mouth is wet and _obscenely_ pink and he’s beaming down at Hiro, dimples popping, jawline literal perfection, curly fringe getting really long. His gaze is on Hiro and no one else. His left hand is rubbing circles against Hiro’s hipbone and the right is flat against the dip of his lower back. Hiro loves this man so much.

“Hey, hey baby,” Issei says lovingly, eyes soft and hand coming up to cup Hiro’s jaw, thumb stroking his flushed cheek. 

“God, there’s gonna be so many pet names, aren’t there. Absolutely disgusting.” Hiro bitches, butterflies fluttering in his belly. 

Issei leans in and hovers right in front of Hiro’s mouth and Hiro can’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut and his lips from parting, from pushing himself up, sneakered feet on their tiptoes. Their breaths mingle and Hiro sighs breathily. 

“So like… I’m your guy now?”

Hiro squeezes his eyes tightly shut and wonders at god’s general direction, ‘_why’_. He opens his eyes and stares disbelievingly up at Issei, that bitch, who’s grinning wolfishly. 

He inhales and turns to walk away, mumbling violently, ”Of course, what else should I expect from a fucking stoner, Jesus, I’m gonna kill myself,” 

And then Issei is laughing, like a _dickhead_, and pulling him close to his chest and whispering, “Noooo, don’t kill yourself you’re so sexy, ahaaha,” and Hiro _loses_ it halfway through, leaning back and almost toppling over with laughter and flapping his hands at Issei as he catches him and kisses his neck wetly in between snickers. 

When they calm down, he turns and looks up at him.

He leans in and bites back his grin and whispers it like it’s a secret, slowly, like Issei isn’t already _painfully_ aware, “I was tryna’ make you jealous.”

Issei snorts but he can’t hide how his nostrils flare and his eyes darken, how his hand slides dangerously lower and possessive, _almost_ on the curve of Hiro’s ass. “Yeah, I figured _that_ out. Asshole,” and Takahiro beams, linking his arms behind Issei’s neck and tugging lightly at his hair. “So it worked, then?” he asks, the picture of innocence.

He buries his face in Hiro’s neck and groans, deep and pained, and when Hiro laughs, he nips at him in retaliation. “You make me _so_ crazy,” he confesses lowly into the skin of his neck. “I was so close to losing my cool, I wanted to come over and beat up every asshole that got close to you. I was ready to tear blondie apart.”

Hiro’s breath hitches. God, _this guy_. 

“Y-yeah right, like you would ever get in a fight, pussy,” he manages to scoff out.

“I noticed that stutter, sweetheart,” Hiro can feel him smiling against his skin and it's his new favorite feeling.

“Of course you did, you’re obsessed with me.”

He sighs, and deadpans, muffled against Hiro’s neck, “Oh shit man, you caught me, what ever will you do with this secret and closely guarded information that nobody in the world knows.”

“Blackmail,” he replies thoughtlessly. 

Issei pulls back and stares at him. “Man, it says so much about you that you didn’t take even a _second_ to answer, you fuckin' Aquarius-“

Hiro tugs him forward and mutters, “Shut up, you love me and you know it,”

Issei grins and goes, cradling Hiro’s face in one hand, the other still stubbornly above the curve of his ass, because he can never get a move on, can he, the freeloader. 

He leans in and looks deep into Hiro’s eyes and says, grinning, “Yeah, you’re right. And that’s why I’ll fight for you,” and closes the gap and crushes their lips together and Hiro’s put on groan at the horrible _cheesiness_ of it all is stifled and swallowed up hungrily.

Issei kisses him slow and deep and slick and all-consuming, their lips sloppy and drunk, fitting seamlessly together after a couple mushed up tries and for a bit they can’t stop smiling, grinning uncontrollably against each other’s lips. But then all at once its heady and intoxicating and perfect. Takahiro bites Issei’s plush lower lip and his tongue barbell clacks insistently against Issei’s teeth, heavy and wanting. Issei’s hand slides down his side back to his hip and he squeezes in warning, which Hiro doesn’t care for at all, whining softly in protest. He wants so much, and he deserves it all goddammit, he’s been waiting long enough. 

Issei groans, and licks into his mouth like he owns it, sucking at his tongue and tilting his head as his mouth moves forward greedily a few more times before pulling up and off wetly. His hand is _still_ just that torturous inch above his ass, teasingly rubbing circles at the curved-in arch at the small of his back. 

Issei smugly watches him pant for a moment, then turns his attention to Hiro’s neck, and drops a tender kiss before nipping and sucking his way down to sink his teeth into the first sensitive spot he finds and Hiro _bucks _forward with a cut off moan, one fist tightening in Issei’s hair and the other crumpling up the back of his shirt, legs weak and trembling. 

He whimpers his way through the first two hickeys, flushed and grinding against Issei’s crotch to the beat of whatever early 2010s bop is being blasted out. He decides that okay, that's enough of that when he feels Issei’s smug grin against his neck at his first embarrassingly high pitched whine, and he tugs his head off with the hand in his hair and whispers, “Take me home, _please…_” into his ear and Issei _shivers_, nodding hastily and wetting his lips. Then his gaze falls and sticks on Takahiro’s kiss swollen, tingling hot mouth and everything slows down.

He swallows, throat bobbing, and whispers hoarsely, “Yeah, I… just. I gotta... J-just one-“ and he trails off, eyes dark and Hiro thinks he doesn’t wanna tear his gaze away from the look in his eyes now that he’s seen it and he could never _ever_ manage to. 

Issei leans down for a bruising kiss, one hand heavy at the back of Hiro’s neck and the other _finally_ sliding down to cup at Hiro’s ass through his jeans, big palm and long fingers squeezing and massaging roughly, leaving Hiro slack-jawed and _moaning _into his mouth, before he pulls back and presses his forehead to Hiro’s, eyes shut and breath fanning across Hiro’s face and making him want more. 

There's a cheer that rises through the crowd and someone hoots super obnoxiously as the song changes to something actually vaguely acceptable in terms of club music.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

"Ah, fuck, f-fuck me Issei, _why_ aren't you fucking me yet-"

"Holy _shit_, baby get your fuckin’ shirt off," he moans into Hiro's mouth in between sloppy kisses, his lower lip swollen and bitten a raw red. 

Issei feels like the physical embodiment of the Fall Out Boy album Infinity on High. He's been pushed back flat on his bed, he’s got his boy straddling his lap all whiney and desperate, with his frantic hands all over Issei's bare chest, most of their clothes long discarded somewhere along their path to Issei’s bedroom, and his fluffy hair is all messed up and he's flushed all the way down to his neck disappearing into the tank top that for some reason he’s _still_ wearing and Issei is considering ripping it off.

So like, he feels really fucking lit. 

Takahiro slides his hands up to Issei's jaw and tilts his head up to press their lips together, kissing him deep and long and hard and Issei gets lost in the push and pull and slide of those lips, loses his train of thought, one hand sliding down the perfect arch of his back and curving around an asscheek, kneading it slow and leisurely, the other rucking up Hiro's shirt absently. He groans in a haze of muddled disappointment and confusion at the loss when Hiro pulls back and he tries to lean in for more, cupping his ass and pulling him closer and bringing their lower halves flush together and they both moan loudly at the feeling of their cocks grinding together, slick from precum. 

Maybe they’re both pretty desperate.

Hiro laughs and sits up and Issei bites off a curse, the dragging friction delicious and unbearable. 

"Thought you wanted my shirt off," Hiro says teasingly, pulling his tank up and off his head and Issei could die a happy death if his last sight was Hiro's arched out midriff, the swirling wave tattoo on the curve of his sides, flowing into his slim waist, his flat stomach. And his hardened pink nipples. He can't stop himself from reaching up and rolling one of them between two fingers and Hiro _cries out, _moaning and almost collapsing.

Issei watches him dry mouthed from below as he catches his breath, flushed and bright eyed from the moonlight flooding into the room through the window and from the teasing he'd endured on the ride home, and he’s glowing and protesting loudly, so so loudly as Issei ignores his empty threats and teases and tweaks his nipple, and wonders idly if he means for the threats to _make_ him stop, or if he’s threatening him just _in_ _case_ he stops.

And it suddenly hits him that this is his, that it’s been his all along, that _he’s_ been his all along, and he can't wrap his head around the fact that he gets to have what feels like everything.

He flips them over and tangles a hand in his hair and cradles his head, his other arm resting against the mattress above him and Takahiro beams softly up at him looking like all the warm things in the world. 

“You look really good in my bed.”

“I’m always in your bed.”

“You always look really good in it, too.”

“I constantly look incredible, I’m a sexy beast at all times.”

He laughs and pulls Takahiro’s head up and murmurs, "’m in love you, you sexy beast," against his lips, dropping soft kisses against his skin, at the corner of his mouth, then presses his lips to the tip of his freckled nose, at the flutter of his fair eyelashes, at his forehead, his burning cheeks and all over his face and behind his ear and Hiro's flustered, laughing and maybe getting a little emotional and whining at him to _stooop, what the hell Issei you sappy fuck, _and Issei buries his face in his neck and breathes in, a little overwhelmed, exhaling and taking a moment to appreciate everything he has. 

He starts off slowly, dropping hot, lingering, openmouthed kisses against Hiro's neck, licking at the sweat pooling in his collarbones. Tugs lightly at his nipple again, while his wet mouth laves at the other one, licking and suckling cruelly. Hiro squirms and begs and moans and he's so shamelessly _loud _and Issei is so weak for loud. 

(He wants to know how loud he can get, and he wants to _know_ and _treasure_ every tiny gasp and groan and whimper and record them and play them over and over until he knows Takahiro’s noises by heart.)

He nips and kisses his way down his torso slowly, taking his time to explore and smooth his hands over his ribs, his abs, his sides, trying to memorize every inch of his skin. He curves his hands around his hips, stroking his hipbones and dropping a delicate kiss to one, then the other. Leaves a good, solid number of marks, wet and dark and stark against Hiro’s pale skin and even though they’re temporary they leave him just a little more sated, satisfying something inside his chest that needs Hiro to be his.

By the time Issei smooths his hands down the back of his bare thighs, Hiro’s desperate and kicking at him, whispering high pitched and irritable at him to, “Hurry the fuck up, dickweed,” and Issei laughs, sliding one hand up to his ass, squeezing, while the other strokes down his thigh to the back of his knee to hook his leg over his shoulder. Hiro digs his heel into Issei’s back and fists his hair and moans out, “_Finally_,” as Issei wraps his mouth around the tip of Hiro’s flushed cock, heavy and hard against his stomach.

He suckles at the head, mean and teasing and Hiro is moaning and arching up and Issei pins his hip firmly to the bed with one hand and he _whines_. Hiro is so desperate and Issei’s pretty fucking desperate too but he doesn’t regret going slow and teasing ‘cause of how good Hiro looks right now, flushed and mouth parted and eyes wet and dilated.

He pulls off and Hiro kicks him and he can’t stop laughing, and Hiro groans and throws an arm over his flushed face. Issei exhales hotly just above Hiro’s cock, still grinning up at him and Hiro lets out a choked noise and squirms, hands tight in Issei’s hair and legs trembling in his hold. Issei mouths over the tip once more, prompting a whine from Hiro, before he relents and moves up, pressing a kiss to Hiro’s forehead and he flushes harder and says scratchily, “Fuck you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

“You suck.”

Issei kisses him, sliding his hands down his sides and waist to his hips and he taps at them, murmuring, ”Hey, turn over.”

Hiro sighs dramatically, saying, “Ugh, fine,” but flips around, arching his back like the fucking sex demon he is, ass so round and Issei must let out a choked noise, because Hiro hums and looks back over his bare shoulder and raises his eyebrows and that, that sight should be illegal and he tells him as much, voice like gravel and breath uneven. “T-that is a personal attack and I feel so targeted.”

Hiro snorts and says, “Yeah?” like it was a _challenge_ and Issei regrets saying it so much when he spreads his legs just a bit more and makes Issei groan out loud.

The littlest things about this night have Issei reeling, a single heated look and the shift of Hiro’s legs and the long stretch of his arms, hands high up, gripping the headboard and the jut of his shoulder blades and the dip in his back.

Issei kneels in between his legs, like he’s about to pray and he kind of is about to worship if you think about it, he reasons.

He cups Hiro’s asscheeks, massaging for a moment and then spreading them, using his thumb to rub at his hole, and he pulls him up not so gently, punctuated by an indignant, “Hey-“, so Hiro’s on his knees too, then blows gently at his hole and watches it flicker.

“If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do, you’re a terrible man and I hate you.”

Issei grins and pauses in his ministrations, pulling back and saying mildly, “Oh? Do you not want this? Ah alright, that’s cool,” and Hiro moans in protest, flailing and kicking his leg out and Issei laughs and catches it as Hiro groans, “No don’t fucking _stop_, you asshole, I want it.“

“Want what?”

Hiro pauses. “You- Oh for fucks sake, don’t make me-“

“Make you what? What is it, baby?”

Hiro whines. “You’re- Ugh. Rim me.”

Issei curves his hands back around Hiro’s ass and squeezes, watching the reddening of his ears and the little gasp he lets out with satisfaction. “That’s not a very nice way to ask, is it?”

“I- Okay. Please.” _There it is._

“Please what?”

“P-please eat me out, please, please I want it, Issei _please_-“

Issei spreads his cheeks with his thumbs and licks a long stripe up from his balls to his taint, and Hiro moans long and high, pushing back helplessly. Issei rims him sloppy and enthusiastic, spit dribbling down to Hiro’s balls and he’s so wet, and Issei takes encouragement in the whimpers and moans from above and flattens his tongue and presses it against his hole, teasing and then fucking into him with his tongue just to make him shout out, hands groping at his cheeks and thighs.

Hiro’s babbling and whining and Issei is genuinely so weak for loud, isn’t he.

He pulls away eventually, regretfully, wiping at his mouth and chin and Hiro makes a quiet noise of displeasure.

Issei thumbs over Hiro’s clenching, pink hole and breathes, “As much as I really wanna make you cum from this, I kinda also _really_ wanna fuck you, so not tonight babe.”

Hiro moves up on the bed and reaches out to the nightstand and blindly opens the drawer, sticking his hand in and he rummages for a bit. Issei blinks patiently, and then he pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom triumphantly, turning around and pushing the lube at Issei’s chest.

Issei flicks open the cap and coats his fingers liberally, then pulls aside one of Hiro’s asscheeks with one hand and presses his middle finger against his opening, pushing it in slowly. Hiro tosses a leg over Issei’s shoulder and he’s pulling him in, closer and Issei shifts his leg to a better position and drops a lingering, openmouthed kiss to his inner thigh before he pushes his finger in to the knuckle. Hiro digs his heel into Issei’s back and exhales.

Issei fingers him slow and lazy and teasing, taking his time and stretching him out to the fullest, scissoring his fingers and grazing them just a bit against his prostrate once he finds it, just being an absolute dick. Hiro fucks himself back on his fingers, moaning and taking more and pushing his luck like he always does, why would he be any different in bed, and Issei lets him, pulling him in even closer and fucking him with his fingers and egging him on, like he always does.

They fit together in every way so perfectly that its almost painful, his heart hurting in Issei’s chest from how much he adores his boy.

He teases him just a bit longer, then pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the sheets, grasping the condom Hiro holds out and rips it open, rolling it on and then he looks down at Hiro, lovely and ready and so good in his bed and asks, “How do you want it?”

Hiro’s reply punches all the air out of his gut. “I wanna see you.”

Issei pushes in achingly slowly, like Hiro is delicate and made of glass and if he’s not careful he’ll break him and Hiro tugs at his hair, harsh and exasperated and he whispers, “Hurry up, fuckface, haven’t you made me wait long enough?”

Issei takes his goddamn time, making it last and savoring how tight he is despite the copious amounts of fingering and when he finally bottoms out, Hiro lets out a breathy sigh and immediately tightens around him, just to be a bitch and Issei moans, losing his cool for a second and Hiro grins and grinds down viciously and they both let out matching whimpers.

Issei thrusts forward, snapping his hips and pressing Hiro’s hip down against the mattress and the other hand wrapping around Hiro’s wrist, and Hiro’s hand slips down and their fingers interlace and Issei presses their hands flat against the pillow, above Hiro’s head.

Hiro looks so fucking beautiful, eyes glossed over in pleasure and skin gleaming with sweat, rosy and pink. Issei pulls his other leg over his shoulder, pressing his knees up to his chest and fucking into him hard and fast, Hiro locking his ankles together and letting out little fucked out moans at every thrust that slams into him. Issei catches his lips and kisses him hard and dirty, lips sliding together, wet and messy, tongue sloppy and they breathe together, sharing the same air and Issei wants them to always be this close. He gazes at Takahiro, bouncing on his cock at every rough thrust and he looks so disheveled and wrecked and angelic and Issei probably shouldn’t be thinking about marriage right now but who fucking cares, they’re meant to be.

They cum one right after the other, Hiro first, spilling all over their chests with a soft sigh, arching up and Issei fucks him through it, giving him a few more thrusts before he cums too, burying his face in Hiro’s neck, hips stuttering and slowing. He breathes in quietly and Hiro scratches softly at his hair, petting and he wants to stay in this moment forever.

He leans back after a long moment and pulls out, tying up the condom and tossing it at the trashcan by the door. He grabs a towel from the still open nightstand drawer and cleans up the mess all over their chests. Then drops back down like a deadweight on Hiro’s chest and he groans, muttering curses that start off loud before trailing off. Issei presses his face under Hiro’s ear and says groggily, “I’ll admit, that was a bit of a religious experience.”

Hiro doesn’t even open his eyes, he just does a halfhearted peace sign, mumbling, “Uh-huh, you know it babe,” and tugs him up with a hand loosely fisted in his tousled hair so he can snuggle up against Issei’s chest. Issei gets ahold of the blanket with his toes, throwing it up and pulling it up with his hand till it’s around their waists, because he knows Hiro gets cold and it’s better to avoid the whining completely.

They settle in and Issei wraps an arm around his waist, tangling their legs together.

He breaks the peaceful silence after less than a minute.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you grinded against all those people just to piss me off, I don’t know whether to be mad or feel special.”

Hiro groans loudly and beats his chest with his fist. “Shut! The fuck! Up!”

Issei grins and tightens his hold around him, kissing the top of his head, soft and loving.

“Goodnight angel, I love you.”

“Oh my _god_, shut up.”

He ultimately decides to save the proposal for some other time. It might not be a yes if he opens his mouth now.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/caandlelit/status/1284919139019239426?s=20)  
"ahaha might fuck around and write a fic"  
kindly ignore the fact that issei is drinking champagne in a club he was trying to be funny for takahiro's benefit but hiro was ignoring him so it flopped rip  
thanku for reading!!!! pl comment


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